


Heatwaves

by Tiye



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: CEO!Yara, Corporate Lawyer!Daenerys, F/F, Modern AU, a fair amount of smut, a lot of back and forth, because these girls like their wit like their wine, dry, featuring:, they know they shouldn't but they do it anyway, this whole thing is ridiculously self-indulgent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:01:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27705253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiye/pseuds/Tiye
Summary: Iron Islands is a company bathed in scandal and embattled in a hostile takeover. Yara Greyjoy has a plan for dealing with all that nonsense- however it hinges completely on the competence of her attorney. She loves her legal team, she really does, but it’s time to do some outsourcing. Enter Daenerys Targaryen, a rising star corporate lawyer looking for her next big promotion.
Relationships: Greyworm/Missandei (Background), Yara Greyjoy/Daenerys Targaryen, Yara Greyjoy/Ellaria Sand
Comments: 12
Kudos: 24





	1. Waterfalls Coming Out Your Mouth

Yara Greyjoy was seldom recognized as a great beauty. She was built strong, with her high cheekbones, thick lips, roiling sea eyes, and heavy brows- she cut a striking image. The woman sat at a massive mahogany desk, anxiously running her hands through her dark brown, shoulder-length hair. She was visibly tired. Her hands fell heavily to the papers strewn over the work surface. This wouldn’t do. Euron’s stock buy up was happening too fast. She barely had time to counter it. Even after buying Theon out of all of his shares. There was a thin line separating her current position leading Pyke and homelessness. Homelessness might be a bit of an exaggeration- she had invested well and had significant private equity in several businesses that didn’t fall under the umbrella of her late-father’s company, she wouldn’t starve but she would more than likely lose everything she had left of her old life. Disgrace was probably the better word. Especially after everything her father did.

How many failed hostile takeovers, insider trading scams, and ill-fated Ponzi schemes must one man attempt before he is imprisoned for the rest of his life? Balon Greyjoy figured it out. He left his businesses in shambles, his relationships destroyed, and his personal bank accounts frozen before he attempted to flee the country. He made it to the airport where FBI agents were waiting on the tarmac to arrest him. That sunny, Tuesday afternoon- in front of his two remaining children- Balon Greyjoy shot himself in the mouth. Twenty-six-year-old Yara covered her younger brother’s eyes but was far too late; Theon saw everything.  
She lost him after that. Most of the time Yara didn’t even know where he was unless she was bailing him out of jail or wiring him money so he could get home. Yara loved Theon and Theon loved heroin, cocaine, and his exceptionally abusive boyfriend Ramsay. It took four years for her to get him back. Four years of holidays ruined by overdoses and fights and the painful realization that nothing would bring their stability, their fortune, their older brothers, their mother, or their father back. Along with everything else, that had also lost the respect and loyalty of their community. The cross of their father’s sins was theirs alone to bear. Or more accurately- it was Yara’s; Theon had the companionship of his addictions. None of that changed the fact that someone had to manage the company, someone had to care for Theon, someone had to keep it all afloat.

It was Yara’s thirtieth birthday when Theon came home, sober, for the first time in four years. Arguably the best present she had ever received. His frame was slight, he was sick and shaky, it was his first-time detoxing. It wouldn’t be the last, but it was the first step. Today Yara was thirty-two years old. Theon was twenty-one, almost twenty-two and five months sober. It had been a long road- to get the company to a mostly stable position, to get Theon the help he needed, to invest what few liquid assets remained so that they would have a future that didn’t entirely depend upon their father’s gutted company.  
She was painfully distracted when Euron’s buyout first began. Theon had relapsed, and she was in the process of getting him sober and into rehab. The gossip columns had a field day while Euron bought up 9% of shares- bringing his ownership to 31%. Unless Yara owned more than 51% of the stock- she was vulnerable to being removed as President of the Board and CEO. While she is currently majority shareholder- with 40% ownership- she sold off a good amount of stock immediately after Balon’s death in an effort to keep the conglomerate from going under. 

Her gambit had backfired spectacularly, while it had been the cash influx the company needed to sustain itself- it left Yara vulnerable. That is why she was about to call Lannister and Bird; a notoriously ferocious law firm ran by the disgraced Tyrion Lannister and former Baratheon and Lannister partner- Varys Bird. They had a junior partner who was rather notorious for her passion, fire, and competence. Yara had heard about her for the last several years. Her work was instrumental of the dismantling of the predatory monopolies that controlled the economy in the coastal city Mereen. It had been said (not entirely in jest) that the only thing that could surpass her beauty was her ferocity.

Yara adjusted the cuffs on her shirt- her nervous energy was palpable as she reached for her desk phone, holding the receiver in one hand, she began to dial before stopping and returning the phone. She took a deep breath, reached into her pocket, and grabbed her cell. Anticipation rolled through her body- she was rigid and nervous. A cornered animal preparing to make its last stand as she dialed the numbers once again.

“Lannister and Bird, how may I help you?” A chipper voice came across the line.

“I’m needing to get in touch with Daenerys Targaryen.” Yara’s voice conveyed none of her nervous energy, managing to come across as calm and self-assured.

“May I tell her who is calling?”

“Yara Greyjoy.”

“Just one moment, Ms. Greyjoy.” Before Yara could utter a “Thank You” hold music had taken over the line. Her hands returned to toying with her cuffs and cufflinks- today they were ornately styled krakens carved from a deep black metal. Meteorite. They were her father’s and his before him. “Ms. Greyjoy- are you there?”

“Yes,” Yara had been jerked from thought, “I'm here.”

“I’ll transfer you to Ms. Targaryen.”

“Thank you.” The phone rung once. Twice. Three times.

“This is Daenerys Targaryen speaking- what can I do for you today Ms. Greyjoy?” Her voice sounded almost amused in its lilt. This was far from an expected phone call- although not completely unsurprising. She certainly knew about Yara’s recent struggle to retain leadership of her family’s company- seemingly the whole city knew. Euron hadn’t been coy about his intentions.

“I’d like to set up a meeting as soon as possible.” Daenerys flicked her perfectly manicured nailed over her keyboard to look at her calendar- she had a block of time available on Thursday. The lack of details provided had the platinum blonde intrigued. Perhaps this would be the client who would help her get promoted to senior partner. A multi-million-dollar hostile takeover in progress, the daughter of a disgraced business leader turned criminal trying to prevent it. It would certainly be high profile. And money should be no object with the Greyjoys… She mused. “I am available to meet in person any time between 10am and 3pm on Thursday.”  
“Ten would be wonderful. You know where my office is?” Yara flexed her power briefly- a habitual reminder she gave people that she was not just any young exec handed power by their father.

“I do. I’m looking forward meeting with you.” Daenerys was unfazed by the control Yara took over the meeting. Typically, Daenerys preferred to meet at her offices, more available junior attorneys and paralegals to do grunt work when questions arose.

“Likewise.”  
_____________________________________________________________________________________

The whole apartment was towering ceilings, exposed brick, white marble, and dark brown leather. The walls were covered with modern art- Basquiat and Sanogo. Windows stretched from the ceiling to the floor across an entire wall; a beautiful view of the skyline to the North was illuminated by the lights of the city. The sun had long since set. Yara collapsed haphazardly onto her quilted leather couch, taking care to gently place her lowball of single malt on the gnarled, driftwood coffee table.  
“Yara.” A feminine voice heavy with Dornish wine called from up the stairs. Yara jolted up- she had all but forgotten about the woman who occasionally let herself into the loft. “Yara, are you home?” Her tone was teasing, inviting, it poured down the stairs like honey in a heatwave, beckoning to her paramour. Yara knocked back her scotch in a gulp, a smirk overtaking her previously dour expression.

“Don’t come down.” Yara called up the stairs- trying to mask the excitement in her voice. “I’m on my way up now.” The brunette ran two hands back through her hair before taking care to adjust her collar. Yara moved quickly, renewed energy from the excitement about her guest and the buzz from the incredibly well-made scotch. She admired herself in the mirror on the staircase. She was a vain thing- known to spend her morning hours in the gym carving her body into the shape that pleased her most. Yara sought power- when she was strong she was better at the hobbies that brought her the most pleasure; sex, sailing, horseback riding. She a glutton in the way she indulged herself.

On Yara’s colossal bed laid a very naked Ellaria Sand. “I’ve been waiting for you.” The dusky woman rolled from her stomach to her back, exposing her tanned chest- her breasts were perky and well proportioned. Yara’s eyes were drawn to them inadvertently. “For a very long time.” Ellaria purred as her hand trailed down her stomach to the small tuft of black hair not far below her belly button. She stopped her descent as she locked eyes with her lover, inviting her closer, all but begging Yara to come finish what she had started.

“I see you didn’t do me the service of waiting.” Yara moved from her position in the doorway to stand next to the bed. She leaned down to place a brief but sloppy kiss on the slim woman’s mouth as Yara undid her belt. Ellaria's breath was thick with the flavor of sweet red wine. “Are you going to help me, or do I have to do this myself?” Ellaria looked smug and rolled back over before making quick work of Yara’s pants. She sat up into a kneeling position to remove the shirt, placing kisses down the chiseled woman’s tattooed chest as she unbuttoned it, tracing her faintly outlined abdominals, all the way to the top of the utilitarian, Dior boxer briefs. Yara shrugged the shirt off onto the floor, her well-muscled shoulders and biceps flexed from the effort, drawing the attention of Ellaria’s mouth. She sucked on a pressure point at the base of her companion's neck while running her immaculately manicured nails from the back of Yara's neck to her elbows, paying special attention to the intricate tattoo that lay between. Yara’s head lolled back and she let out a satisfied groan before pushing Ellaria to the bed.

The dark-haired woman fell backwards and landed with her legs splayed very suggestively, an obvious, drunken attempt at seduction. Luckily for Ellaria, Yara was a sucker for obvious, drunken attempts at seduction. With a wolfish grin- she dove in. Yara licked from the base of her lips to her clit, savoring just how wet Ellaria had gotten for her. Ellaria’s fingers wrapped themselves in Yara’s shoulder length hair and pulled her harder against her body. The sloppy noises that she was making were drowned out by the desperate, needy cries of her bedmate. “Please Yara, more.” Ellaria gasped salaciously as her spine arched off of the bed like she was being electrocuted.

The brunette was not one to deny her lovers their requests. She positioned a finger at Ellaria’s entrance, close enough that they were touching the dewy flesh, but not nearly enough for Ellaria to derive pleasure from the action. “Please Yara.”

“Why didn’t you wait for me?” Yara teased her, voice dropping an octave as she ghosted her fingers up and down the Dornish woman’s lips. “You didn’t save me any wine, you didn’t save me any of the fun I get from trying to turn you on. You couldn’t wait?” The grin plastered across her face was enough of an indicator that she was trying to provoke an ego-stroking response.

“I tried to wait. But I… I got distracted.” Ellaria tried to wiggle her hips against Yara’s fingers, but they were retracted before she could get any of the delicious friction she craved.

“Just what could have distracted you?” Yara’s fingers circled Ellaria’s clit softly- still not firmly enough to bring any satisfaction.

Ellaria was surprisingly coherent given her inebriation “It’s been two weeks since you’ve gotten me off. I have needs and you were running late.” Ellaria whined, still trying to press herself into Yara’s hand. Momentarily taken aback, Yara let her. The guttural, desperate moan was enough to break Yara’s train of thought- she lost character for a moment- the façade of the unflappable, infinitely composed and controlling lover disappeared.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so absent lately. With everything happening- I’ve barely had time for myself-“ Ellaria cut her off by maneuvering Yara’s fingers inside of her.  
“Shhhh- just fuck me. Forget for an hour or two.”

“I can do that.” Yara plunged forward without mercy, knowing Ellaria could take every punishing stroke. Long, tanned fingers went white knuckled as they wove into the grey, satin sheets.


	2. Helium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I can't stop writing this story so here's the second chapter. I can't promise all of my updates will be this fast. But I was very excited to arrange their meeting. As usual it was not edited, if there are any glaring errors I haven't caught please let me know! There are only so many times I can read this before the words lose their meaning.

Daenerys Targaryen was a delicate woman on first appearance. She was short and lithe, elegant fingers, aristocratic features, and long platinum hair. Pencil skirts, Miu Miu pumps, Chloe blouses- all the trappings of finery. She had scraped hard for them. Her family left her with nothing. After it imploded- after her father was convicted of treason, after her mother took all of that Ambien, after the feds raided their palatial property, all young Daenerys was left with was her delusional brother. Not even a single memory of the people who gave her life or the world she was born into.

Her first memory was her brother telling her to pick up what remained of her toys, so they could leave the pool house they had been crashing in. They had overstayed their welcome. The flurry of packing, Viserys yelling at the former family friends that “They’d be sorry.” The orphaned Targaryens hopped from place to place, living off of handouts and what few unfrozen assets were given back to them by the state. Viserys refused to work, to attend school, to finish anything. He drank often, gambled occasionally, and it ended him in trouble. When Daenerys was sixteen, he showed up bloodied and beaten. Screaming about getting ripped off by a bookie. As the girl attempted to bring him inside, he struck her across the face. “You never tell me what to do. I am a fucking dragon,” he slurred, “and this is my world. Not yours.”

That was the moment Daenerys started focusing singularly on getting out. She had been dating a boy for a while. A professional equestrian. He was a little older, a little rougher around the edges, but his family had money and he was a future Olympian. Not a bad prospect for the fallen daughter of a treasonous politician. Viserys was more than willing to sign Dany away to the boy when he came around talking of marriage despite the fact that she was in high school. Daenerys saw him as a way out- a way to establish herself, to pay for college, to escape from under Viserys’ thumb.

Their union was short and ill-fated. Barely a year into the young marriage, Drogo was in a serious accident on the eventing course. His horse clipped a jump, they rolled together and while the horse was attempting to stand, he kicked an already unconscious Drogo in the skull. The young man laid in the hospital bed for two months, comatose and brain dead. Daenerys decided with his family that the plug should be pulled. There was no chance of his life being restored. It hardened her heart, but the money she inherited from him was more than enough to support her dream of attending Princeton. Her dream of becoming a lawyer, of climbing the ranks, of undoing all of the bad her father had put on their family name. She wanted to restore the Targaryen name to prestige, to have what was rightfully hers.  
Daenerys clawed her way through undergrad, stretching every cent left to her by Drogo. Oddly enough, her sentimentality held out and she insisted on keeping his favorite horse. Najaheya. A proud liver chestnut thing, the same horse that had delivered the killing blow to her husband. No longer the mount of a champion, the powerful animal had retired to trail rides and gentle laps around the arena. The horse offered her solstice in between the pressures of school and family.

Undergrad was easy compared with Columbia law. Perhaps such a rigorous education was overkill- she would have been able to find employment with a degree from a state school as well. But Daenerys wanted to break the wheel that broke her family. Vengeance couldn’t be enjoyed unless she was the best. There would be no shortcuts, no cheats, no jobs offered from pity. She was completely determined to obtain the same credentials as her father had, as the men who betrayed him, as their sons. They would bend the knee to her. They would admit she was the superior leader, thinker, worker. She was tireless and singular in her pursuit. Unstoppable.  
Thursday came quickly enough. Daenerys stood up from her desk, perhaps 5’2” maybe even 5’3” before heels, with them however, she cut a very imposing figure. Her white blonde hair hung in loose, painstakingly styled waves. They cut a stark contrast against the deep red of her blouse. A pencil skirt to seal the deal and bloody bottom pumps to tie the whole thing together. The upper hand was hard to have, so Daenerys took whatever advantage she could get. Especially when entering into negotiations such as these. The blonde carefully opened one of her desk drawers and pulled an elegant bottle of perfume out. She lightly sprayed the inside of her left wrist before replacing the bottle and shutting the drawer. Daenerys touched her wrists together briefly before gathering her bag and donning her black blazer. “Missandei,” She called around the corner of her office, “I’ll be out of office until noon- if anyone needs me, tell them to call my cell.”

“Yes, Ms. Targaryen.”  
___________________________________________________________________

“It’s a pleasure.” Yara did not smile as she extended her hand to shake Deanerys’. It was a firm handshake, but not unpleasant. Warm to the touch but not clammy.

“So, tell me.” Daenerys supposed as she sat down, across the desk from Yara. Her expression betrayed none of the curiosity that lay below. “What brings me to your office this morning? I can’t say I agree to many meetings before I know the subject matter.” A tense attempt at a smirk drew across Yara’s full lips. She let out a low chuckle.

“No, I suppose not.” The ghost of a smile faded into nothing. “As I’m sure you’ve heard, my uncle, Euron Greyjoy, is attempting to take over the company. My objective, naturally, is to prevent that at all costs. There are several private shareholders with holdings substantial enough to lift one of us to majority shareholder status. I am interested in acquiring those before Euron does. I am also interested, in systematically buying up his company. However, I’d like to do it anonymously. I would rather Euron not find out about this before I’m ready.”

“You’ll need a shell corporation and a way to move your personal assets without tipping off Euron?” Daenerys inquired, genuinely curious as to how Yara intended to pull this off.

“I need it all done quietly. That’s why I’ve asked you here instead of my usual legal team or your bosses. Can’t have word getting around that I’ve solicited the advice of a lawyer if I want this to work.” The brunette gestured fruitlessly.

“What’s to say my presence won’t tip Euron off?” The Targaryen raised an eyebrow, this woman's thought process had interested her.

“I’d venture to guess most of his camp will think I’m trying to get in your pants.” Yara's dour expression was briefly hijacked by a cocky smirk.

The smug look proved to be infectious, and Daenerys couldn't help but grin as she fired back, “That sounds like a rather risky gamble to take, doesn’t it? What would you suggest I tell my bosses I’m billing Yara Greyjoy $700 an hour for?” It was Yara's turn to raise an eyebrow, an otherwise stressful meeting had turned into something rather enjoyable because of this Targaryen woman. That was something to note.

Yara leaned back in her chair and chuckled, “I’ve always appreciated a good adrenaline rush. You’re a smart girl, and for $700 an hour, I’m sure you can come up with something.” Their eyes locked, both of them wanted to make the obvious joke but something prevented them, even the typically crude Greyjoy felt as though it wouldn't be enough of a joke to be funny. She had already caught herself staring at Ms. Targaryen's chest a little too hard. Imagining what the younger woman would look like on her knees under the desk, or on top of it. 

“While I can sympathize with your fondness for adrenaline, I don’t feel as though it will suit you well here.” Yara was jerked from her thoughts by the attempt at a terse rebuff. Daenerys' easy smile tensed up as she caught herself divulging the normally private information. Yara certainly didn't need to know she was an adrenaline junkie. The back and forth was getting to her.

“From what I’ve heard, it’s not the only thing we have in common, Ms. Targaryen.” The plain truth. Perhaps even the reason Yara had been so drawn to hiring Daenerys in the first place, certainly the reason she didn't even balk at the hefty price tag that came with her legal services.

“I wouldn’t know anything about that.” Daenerys’ eyes had a flicker of fire in them before they returned to the overwhelming calm of her attempt at professional demeanor. “But I am interested to see if I can help you. I’d like to get back to my office to draw up a more formal plan and timeline for you to look over.” She knew this might be her only chance to get out before she slipped again. Something about the Greyjoy woman was getting under her skin. She couldn't quite place why. Yara’s steely eyes and overwhelming confidence certainly weren’t helping Daenerys keep her cool.

Yara’s nonplused facade slipped for a moment. She couldn’t let Daenerys leave yet. “Before you leave, I have several legal questions unrelated to this particular issue.” She rushed the words out in an almost-panic, completely driven by her desire to keep Daenerys in her office. A flicker of irritation and another of what was perhaps amusement or affection rippled over the blonde’s face.

“What else can I help you with, Ms. Greyjoy?” Yara leaned in across the table, adjusting her blazer slightly, drawing Daenerys’ eyes to her broad shoulders before she spoke.

“Is there any way I or my brother could be implicated in what Balon did?” Her voice was softer than before, cloaked in genuine concern.

Daenerys took a moment to consider the facts of the situation. She certainly wasn’t unfamiliar with the events surrounding the fall of the former Greyjoy patriarch. The case against Balon Greyjoy had been a media circus, there were next to no details of the events that went unpublished, “Regardless of the fact that you and your brother were at the airport that day- it’s doubtful. You maintained that you believed you were going on vacation. You were working for your father at the time?”

Yara could only let out a very solemn “Aye.”

The Targaryen rolled the idea around in her head once more before speaking, “I still don’t think so, but the DA is no friend of your family’s- I can’t say it’s impossible.” While she wasn’t privy to the inner workings of the DA’s office, it was no secret that the head of the Stark family wasn’t one to let a Greyjoy off easy.  
“Thank you for your candor.” Yara allowed the tense smile to return to her face.

“In the spirit of candor- I doubt very much that you would let Ned Stark win.” Where the fuck did that come from? Daenerys wanted to slap herself. What was it about the Greyjoy woman that made it impossible to maintain the detached professionalism she valued so much. Maybe it was the fact that they had such similar fathers, or that they had both clawed their way to their current positions. ‘ _Maybe it’s the way she meets your eyes like you’re her equal and not a toy,_.’

“I’m curious.” The smile on Yara's face grew tenfold, her cocky, self-assured grin was almost as infuriating as it was attractive. Daenerys knew Yara could back up her talk. It had her spinning.

“Oh god.” The color drained from the blonde's face as she realized the gravity of her mistake. She knew that she had set Yara up to ask questions Daenerys most definitely did not want to answer.

“What makes you think that?” There is was, the confident lilt, the smug look of victory. How could she walk herself back from this? Without letting the Greyjoy know that the playful flirtation was working and that she had become flustered. ‘ _Lightly flustered_.’ Daenerys reminded herself while attempting to remain composed.  
Daenerys thought as quickly as she could. Trying desperately to form a sentence that was just complimentary enough without being flirtatious, “You have… I don’t know." She sighed as she brought her hand to cradle her forehead while she tried once more to toe the line, "Your strength of will is impressive. Not just anyone would be able to shoulder the burden you have at your age. Especially not so competently.”

“Wow. Impressive and competent? I’m swooning.” Yara's smug look remained but her eyes deflated slightly. She might have won their repartee by backing the Targaryen into a corner but she would be lying if she said she hadn't hoped for a less restrained compliment.

“I’ve noticed.” There it was. The line had been crossed. It was too easy an opportunity to pass up- Daenerys was furious with herself for her need to have the last word.  
“You’re confident that I’m interested in you?” Yara stood up like a predator, radiating confidence and poise. ‘This must be her element. The step between benign flirtation and action.’ Daenerys reflexively stood as well. The room crackled with electricity as they postured. The brunette paced around the table before standing face to face with the slightly shorter woman, their height difference might have been more dramatic had Daenerys chosen less torturous stilettos that Thursday. They were not even a foot away from one another. Professionalism be damned. Daenerys met Yara’s stormy eyes and smiled the confident smile of a woman who knew exactly what she was doing. She had no choice, after all, she was the one who put them here by flirting back so blatantly.

“Did you have another question, or may I take my leave now?” Daenerys’ voice was uncharacteristically soft, it drew Yara even closer.

“Feel free.” They were standing too close, their faces angled towards each other, the room had filled with lightning that crackled and popped between them. The blonde woman’s hands clenched and unclenched, she would later claim it was irritation and not nervous energy, but somehow Yara doubted that very much. A phone vibrated, breaking their trance. 

Yara shook her head briefly, as if to remove the salacious thoughts from her head and strode to the door. As she extended her arms to open it for Daenerys to take her leave, Yara’s sleeves exposed some of the intricate tattoos around her wrists. The Targaryen’s eyes were immediately drawn to the bold flashes of color as she gathered her things. She was intrigued but too thrown off to ask about them in a way that wasn’t a continuation of their flirtation, something she was desperately trying to avoid given how uncharacteristically shaky their moment had made her.

“It has been a very interesting first meeting, Ms. Greyjoy."

“Call me Yara.”

“Yara, then.”

“I’m looking forward to our next, Ms. Targaryen.”

“I am as well.”

“What- no ‘Call me Daenerys’?”

“No, I quite like when you address me as Ms. Targaryen.” And with that, leaving a vaguely stunned, Greyjoy in her wake, the demanding clack of Daenerys Targaryen’s stilettos faded into the hall.

“Fuck.” Yara whispered into the empty room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Your kudos and comments seriously make my week.


	3. It's All So Incredibly Loud

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A longer chapter than the last two. I think this will be about the length I'm shooting for going forward but we shall see. Thank you for reading this! Your kudos and comments mean everything to me!

Yara was deep in thought as she sat in her car. She was slumped back against the soft black leather of her seat, fingers tracing the four interlocked rings on her steering wheel. The deep growl of the exhaust betrayed the audacious power of the engine. Perhaps it was a family trait- the propensity for fast cars. Her father certainly loved them as well. She had been sitting in the parking garage of her building for long enough- just contemplating the events of the day. Yara had become fixated on the woman who swept through her office that morning. A voice cut through her thoughts- she had all but forgotten that Theon had called her.  
“Yara- are you there? How’d the meeting go?” Theon sounded almost irritated, “Yara, are you even listening to me?”

“Sorry. Yeah. Uh. Yeah, the meeting. It went really well.”

“No details? Just ‘It went well.’”

“Uh. Yeah. I think it’ll work.” Yara was coming back to Theon from her distracted train of thought, she was not paying attention enough to prevent the affection that slipped into her voice, “She’s smart.”

“Oh.” It took a moment for the realization to set in, “Oh! Please don’t fuck this one.” Theon exclaimed in borderline-disgust before he let out a laugh. Almost the way he used to laugh, with carefree aplomb, but not quite. Yara was rather notorious for fucking anyone she found attractive, regardless of their importance to her business or how awkward things became after she inevitably lost interest. Theon will never let her forget the discomfort their family experienced after Yara took Tristifer Botley’s virginity before dumping him, publicly claiming that “His prick couldn’t put a dent in a jar of peanut butter.”

“I- I would never!” Yara attempted to sound offended, however she had spent enough time in the last hour fantasizing about how Daenerys would look bent over her desk to know he was right.

“You’ve never lied to me more blatantly.” Theon’s amused tone was growing warmer as she engaged him in easy conversation. It was a rarity that he had her on the ropes.

“I’m not going to fuck her. I admire her professional success. She’s very intelligent to have gotten so far in so little time. And with everything that happened with her family.” There was a moment of hesitation before she spoke again, “I don’t know. Maybe I identify with her a little bit.” Yara dropped her head into her hands, her voice was somber, thoughtful even. Resigned to the fact that she can’t, shouldn’t, won’t- fuck this girl. Regardless of how desperately she wants to know what Daenerys tastes like.

“’Identify with her’ meaning you want to see how she looks naked.” Theon’s smirk was audible.

Yara released a heavy sigh. “Only a fool would deny that woman her immense beauty- but I don’t want to sabotage this. She might be the only chance we have to save ourselves from Euron.”

“Wow. Personal growth.” His voice dripped with sarcasm, attempting to taunt a response from his older sister.

“Shut up!” She was still mostly joking as she reprimanded her little brother.

“No- this is big! You like her. Now, be truthful, have you thought about having babies with her yet? What’s the color scheme going to be for your wedding? Am I going to be your best man? Would you let her top? Wait! Don’t answer that.” Theon really sold his soul to the joke- the words coming out rapid fire, leaving no room for response.

“Theon! I’m trying to retain some sort of professionalism here. I can’t fuck every beautiful woman who enters into my life!” Yara was beginning to get irritated with her brother, she didn’t understand why he refused to see this the way she did.

“That’s never stopped you from trying before.”

“This is different. Our stability is in jeopardy. What the fuck are we going to do if Euron takes everything?” Desperation crept into her voice, she needed him to see reason. She needed to see reason. She needed someone to keep her from making this mistake, from committing herself to the idea of seducing the lawyer.

“Where are you going to go on your honeymoon? Oooh- have you considered the Amalfi Coast?” Theon continued to play dumb, doing his best to provoke Yara into admitting the truth. He could feel that there was something different in the way she spoke about this one. Normally the first thing she would mention was the size of a girl’s tits. Regardless if she was interested or not. Theon had always wondered if it was her way of distancing herself from others. If she found solace in reducing them to their parts instead of accounting for the sum of them.

Her temper had finally been pricked, it was a rarity, generally Yara was one to roll with a joke. Perhaps it was how fraught her nerves were, how thrown off she was by her meeting, or maybe a combination of both. She began to shout, “Theon! Take something seriously for once in your fucking life! It’s like talking to a fucking teenager!” Yara’s frustration was overwhelming. After everything she had done for him, everything she sacrificed so they could have a good life- he wanted her to throw it away for what? She wanted to throw it away for what? 

“Stop, Yara! Just because Dad fucked off and left behind this stupid fucking company doesn’t mean you have to give up everything important to you to keep it alive!”  
“You don’t understand at all. This is everything to me. This is all I have.” Yara pleaded desperately. She felt like she was being slammed by a truck as she tilted her head back against the head rest. Yara had fought for so long against so many things.

“You need to find something outside of work to live for.” His voice quieted with the truth.

“I have you.” Her voice was uncharacteristically small, her anger falling off the cliff into the abyss of realization.

“Other than that, Yara. Who are you without work? Without me? Who are you, Yara? You stopped dating, you stopped sailing, you stopped riding. You put your whole life on hold to help me. I love you, you saved me. I’ll never be able to express how thankful I am. But Yara, fuck. Live a little.” She didn’t think she could sink any further into her seat as she cut the engine on the car.  
_________________________________________________________________________________

"Siri- call Missandei." Daenerys sat in stand-still traffic, rhythmically tapping her red nails against the tan leather of the steering wheel while she waited for her second in command to answer the phone. She didn't wait for Missandei to speak before she started in, “Missandei, did you get my email?”

“Yes, Daario and I have already started working on drawing up a timeline.”

“Great, thank you. And Grey?” Her words were clipped and to the point.

“He’s working on several contingency plans in case we gain any scrutiny.”

“Very well.”

“How was the meeting?” Missandei inquired innocently, not understanding the size of the can of worms she was opening.

Daenerys took a moment to consider the question before answering, “It went well. The Greyjoy woman is rather interesting. I think she’ll prove to be a valuable ally.”

“How so?”

“She’s very competent. Knows what she wants, she's very smart and an entertaining conversationalist. It’s impressive, what she’s done with her company in such a short time.”

“People say the same things about you and your career.” Missandei reminded her, before she lowered her voice, as if she was telling a secret in a crowded room, “I have to know, do the rumors hold up?”

“She didn’t try to ravage me on her desk, if that’s what you’re asking.” Although Daenerys would be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about the way Yara's strong hands would feel around her throat as she climaxed.

“It isn’t. I’ve heard she’s rather-”

“Dashing?” The Targaryen interjected before Missandei could finish her thought.

“I was going to say crass. Although you’ve lead me into another series of questions entirely!” The secretive tone was all but forgotten about. Missandei was ecstatic as she practically shouted through the phone at her boss, “You think she’s dashing!?”

“Missandei.” Daenerys attempted to divert the line of inquiry with a stern rebuff.

“No, I’m genuinely curious!” Missandei exclaimed, she barely kept the titillation from her voice, “Are you interested in Yara Greyjoy?”

“Of course not! I find her intriguing. We have similar fathers. That’s all. And! She’s a client! The breech of ethics would be inexcusable!” Daenerys' tone was incredulous and defensive. She had obviously been cornered by the younger lawyer as she attempted to deny the truth to her closest friend.

“Are you doing a good job?”

“Excuse me?”

“Of convincing yourself.” Daenerys’ right-hand woman was doing everything she could to not laugh at her boss' obvious misery. She found the situation delightful. In fact- Missandei had never seen her boss so taken with anyone before, let alone an important client.

“Please don't say anything about this.” The Targaryen muttered, resigned to her fate.

"Don't worry," The junior attorney sounded incredibly smug, it was a rarity that she had such information to hold above her boss' head, "your secret is safe with me."  
__________________________________________________________________________

“You’ve reached Yara Greyjoy’s office, may I ask who is speaking?” Yara’s vaguely uninterested assistant answered the phone.

“It’s Daenerys Targaryen.”

“I’ll transfer you to her desk.” The cold neutrality had an almost amused tone once Daenerys had announced herself. Did everyone know she had developed a small, very small, minuscule, almost-completely-non-existent crush? Did she do such a bad job of hiding it?

“Thank you.” The phone was silent for a moment before it rang only once.

“Ms. Targaryen-” Yara's smile could be heard over the phone, “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you today.”

“I was hoping to meet in person sometime this week to discuss the status of our work. I have some paperwork for you to sign.” The blonde was struggling to keep the anticipation from her voice. Daenerys wasn’t looking forward to this, or so she kept telling herself. It is a regular meeting. ‘ _This is for work_ ’. “Would you be able to do Friday?”

“Three o’clock?”

“I’ll put it in my calendar.”

“Oh, that reminds me.” The Greyjoy woman hesitated for a moment, “I’m not taking any meetings in my office this week. Are you comfortable meeting at the stables I board my horses at? I heard you ride well.”

“I can’t say I’ve ever had a meeting in a barn before, but I’ll take any excuse to go for a ride.”

“It doesn’t hurt that it helps maintain the illusion that I’m seducing you instead of soliciting your professional help.”

“That’s the only reason? Not because you want to see me in breeches.” Daenerys’ smile could be heard in her tone: warm, teasing, amused. It was so easy for her to fall into this flirtation with Yara. She would have to watch herself closely at their meeting.

“Not just because I want to see you in breeches.” Yara fired back quickly, “I’ll have my assistant send your office the address. I’m looking forward to our meeting, Ms. Targaryen.”

“That’ll be great. Thank you, Yara. I’ll see you Friday.”

_________________________________________________________________________

Friday couldn't come quickly enough. Yara was oddly excited and showed up to the barn almost an hour early to make the arrangements for their ride. She conscripted a groom to tack up two horses, her preferred mount and one of the barn’s lesson horses. It took all of the effort she possessed to not run to greet Daenerys when her white BMW sedan pulled up to the barn, rattling innocuously as it rolled over the gravel. The Greyjoy smiled at Daenerys as she exited the car, before quietly escorting her to the tack room, "You can change into your riding clothes in here, the door locks so you won't be disturbed."

The lawyer smiled and issued a polite but nervous "Thank you." Yara nodded before turning on her heel and shutting the door behind her, she did not need to be thinking about how Daenerys Targaryen was getting naked behind that door. After a few agonizingly long minutes, Daenerys emerged into the barn's main corridor. There were beautifully detailed stalls lining the walls, dark wood and wrought iron held the powerful animals. The smell of cedar shavings, alfalfa hay, and fine leather permeated the air.

“I’m sorry your mount isn’t more spirited, but she is reliable and patient with Motte here.” The Greyjoy woman smiled proudly and gestured to the two horses tacked up in front of her. Both being held by a short young man who looked only slightly put out. One a deep bay gelding with a barrel chest and a jug head and the other a lanky, dapple-grey mare.

“Motte?”

“I bought him for myself when he was a colt. Thought it would be an interesting project. I don’t get to spend nearly enough time with him for him to know much of anything though.”

“He’s a handsome boy.” Daenerys rubbed the gelding's large, asymmetrical blaze, the heavy Irish Sport Horse leaned into her ministrations like a dog; he almost reminded her of Yara. Brutish on first appearance, too spirited for most, but absolute putty when correctly manipulated. Or at least Daenerys assumed. Not that she should be assuming anything about what Yara was like outside the realm of their professional relationship. “Do you use him for anything or is he an expensive lawn ornament?” Daenerys kept a hand on the beast as she looked over him appraisingly, admiring his confirmation and the power in his body as he shifted his weight between hooves out of impatience. Motte was becoming bored, his tail flicked aggressively across his hip and he stomped a hoof, as if to remind his mother that he was saddled up and wanted to go.

“He works with a trainer, he’s learning manners for now. Too much talent, not enough discipline.” Yara’s smile was a little lopsided, there was real joy and pride in her voice as she spoke about the bay. The blonde girl slowly circled around the horse, keeping one hand on him as she did so. She wanted to be able to feel his muscles seize up if he was going to move suddenly. Yara continued speaking, “I always enjoyed cross country as a kid. Figured I’d have fun with him.” Daenerys sucked in air apprehensively, she withdrew her hand from Motte’s flank and took a step back. The sport scared her. Fearless riders convincing their mounts into a dead run and then to launch themselves over creeks, fallen trees, whatever obstacles appeared in their paths. In competition, an ambulance regularly followed the riders as they went.

Not even that was enough to save her late husband when his horse clipped a log on a course. They flipped together through the air before the horse landed on his back, Drogo still caught in the stirrups. Najaheya was lucky his own neck wasn’t broken in the fall. The blow caused Drogo to lose consciousness, there was no way to free himself from the powerful animal as he righted himself. Fight or flight instincts took over and the unfamiliar weight pulling down on his right side caused the Warmblood to bolt in terror, kicking out as he took off. A misguided attempt to fend off an imaginary attacker.

The sick crack of the helmet being split under the power of steel horseshoes echoed in Daenerys’ head for months. She watched in slow motion as a terrified Najaheya drug her husband’s body around the course by his leg, desperately looking for a way to escape the perceived danger. Blood spilled freely from under Drogo’s helmet, covering his face and leaving glistening streaks along the grass as the horse sprinted back and forth. Finally, someone managed to calm the horse enough to free Drogo's foot, now twisted into an unnatural angle. Daenerys was still frozen on the sidelines. She couldn’t move. She was desperate to cry out, to sob, to scream- but she found herself completely unable to produce sound.

It was already too late for Drogo as they loaded his nearly lifeless body into the ambulance. Daenerys knew it was over. No one survived a fall like that. While the doctors at the hospital helped him cling to life for two more months- there was no hope of return. His eyes never opened again. He didn’t survive the fall, not in any of the ways that mattered at least.

The thought of something similar happening to Yara stirred an unknown feeling in Daenerys’ gut. It made her slightly nauseous. She reminded herself to investigate that feeling later. “You weren’t lying about being an adrenaline junkie.”

“No. I’ve always had a penchant for it. Fast cars, fast horses-”

“Fast women?” Daenerys interrupted, as she circled back around the horse to Yara who let out an amused chuckle at the question.

“Aye. Fast women too. I’ve always enjoyed breaking the rules.”

“The rules?”

“You know. The rules.”

“In fact, I don’t. Enlighten me?” The Targaryen teased. It was at that moment that another groom emerged from the other side of the barn and brought the small blonde a mounting block. The young man holding the horses handed her the reins, distracting her from her line of questioning. Yara couldn't help her eyes as they raked admiringly over Daenerys' form while she ascended the mounting block and assuredly swung her right leg over the saddle.

“You’re a natural!” Yara was keen to change the topic. She was far too mesmerized by the view to invent some witty retort or elaborate on what exactly 'the rules' were. What would Daenerys look like pushed up against the wooden lockers in the tack room, breeches and panties pulled down just past her ass, just enough that she could slip two fingers into her slick cunt. They would have to be quick. Have to be silent… A light blush crossed her cheeks and Yara snapped herself out of her inappropriate train of thought. She shook her head lightly and hoisted herself onto Motte’s back, her arms rippled and flexed with the effort. The tall gelding braced himself and took a step back once Yara had mounted. He was ready. The grooms removed the mounting blocks from the hallway and retreated to the storage room without a word. If she had been paying attention, the Greyjoy would have noticed Daenerys' eyes boring holes into her body as she mounted.

It only took a moment for Yara to settle into the saddle. She sat assuredly, well balanced with her shoulders back and her weight distributed evenly between the balls of her feet, “Follow me, I know a great trail.” She turned to Daenerys and beamed.

“After you.” The blonde smiled graciously as they left the barn, heading for a wooded area with a clear-cut trailhead. They rode in silence for a moment, both of them getting a feel for their mounts’ moods and enjoying the peace. The only sounds were the light crunching of grass beneath hooves and the birdsong of early spring.  
Yara was the first to break the silence as they rode side by side, “You have horses, don’t you?”

“I do. Two. One was my late husband’s and the other was his wedding gift to me.”

“Ah. I’m sorry if this is a sore subject I didn’t realize…”

“It’s quite alright. It happened a number of years ago. It certainly was no fault of the horses.”

“No, I suppose not. But I didn’t intend to force you into such a serious topic. We were meant to be discussing business.”

“Is this your way of avoiding getting to know me?”

“Am I that transparent?”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps I’m just perceptive.”

“I suppose you would have to be, with a face like yours I would be surprised if even one of your clients refrained from throwing themselves at you.”

“Flatterer. Where did you learn to speak so sweetly? Certainly not your father. Perhaps your mother? Or maybe an old flame?”

“Nothing like that. It just comes naturally in the presence of beautiful women.”

“I thought as much. No one would spend that much time in the gym or spend that much money on tattoos without an ulterior motive.”

“So, you were checking me out?” Yara gloated heartily.

It was Daenerys' turn to abruptly change the topic, “I’ll need your signature on the final documents establishing the next shell company- I have the paperwork in my car-”

“There’s no shame in being attracted to me, you know. I’m good-looking, successful, intelligent, funny-”

“Modest.”

“I was going to say confident actually.”

“Cocky might be the better term.” The blonde tossed her hair over her shoulder and rolled her eyes playfully.

“I make you think of the word cock?” The words were out of Yara's mouth before she could think better of it. The conversation was immediately darkened. Yara didn't understand what exactly about the sentiment provoked the reaction that it did, but something in her companion snapped. Apparently, she had found the threshold of their playful teasing.

“What do you want from me? Do you want my professional help, or do you want to fuck me? Because you can’t have both. That’s not how this is going to work. I’m not sure if you actually want to get Euron off of your back or if you were looking for an excuse to get me into your bed.” Daenerys snapped. This had become far too confusing for her in a short amount of time. While she was attracted to Yara, she couldn’t let her personal feelings compromise her professional ethics. She had her hopes pinned on this going well. It was a surefire way to ascend the ranks- a client this significant is what made someone senior partner. This success was her next step toward her goals. She would not let anything, or anyone ruin this opportunity, no matter how charming they proved to be.  
Yara’s face dropped as Daenerys’ words landed in her flesh like knives. “That’s not at all what I’m trying to do. I-” she paused to gather her words, uncharacteristically flustered, “I’m sorry. I’ve made a mistake. It was unbelievably unprofessional of me. I enjoyed our back and forth too much and I’ve let it get out of hand. I hope you can forgive me and we can move forward in a more professional capacity. You have a lot of qualities I admire and respect, that’s why I wanted to work with you. Not because I want to sleep with you.”

The Targaryen sighed, “It’s fine. Really. I’m sorry for making this uncomfortable.”

“Please don’t apologize. I was inappropriate and disrespectful of your boundaries.”

“Yara.” Daenerys’ voice warmed over, “I promise you that it’s okay. It wasn’t unwelcome." She looked down at her hands, trying to come up with the right words to express this particular brand of discomfort, "I just…” She trailed off, still unsure of how to put it to words, “I don’t want to compromise my ethics.”  
“I understand.” Yara nodded curtly, trying not to smile. _Not unwelcome_. She had an uncanny ability to avoid the whole truth in the face of hope. Their silence resumed, slightly tenser than before. It was hard to identify what exactly crackled between them but there was certainly something in the air. “So. You want to get your name on the building? Lannister, Bird, and Targaryen?”

“That’s the first step.”

“Towards?” The brunette cocked her head towards the beautiful woman, making brief eye contact before looking away, not wanting to add more fuel to her increasingly graphic thoughts.

“I want Cersei Lannister’s senate seat.” Daenerys didn't hesitate.

“That’s a big goal. What’s your platform?”

“I want to break the wheel of oppression. The gerrymandering, the redlining, the bribery, and predation on the poor. Equal opportunities in education and in healthcare. Equality for women, for people of color, for immigrants, refugees, for the queer community…” She trailed off for a moment before finishing her statement with resolve gleaming in her eyes, “There’s a lot in this country that is broken because of men like our fathers.”

“Aye. I hope you get your chance. There will be many men like them in your way though. To get through them you will have to be ruthless. There is no high road in this game. Cut them down, leave them with nothing. To have victory over the men that have poisoned and corrupted this country over the centuries will take fire and blood. You’ll have to burn their houses, raze their fields, turn their women. Leave them with nothing but ash.”

“Turn their women?” Daenerys snorted, attempting to avoid discussing the bleak truth Yara had presented her.

“If you can make their wives see your side, they’ve lost. That means their children will hear your voice too and if you can change next year’s leaders, you’ve won.” The Greyjoy shrugged. Bleak or not, she knew she spoke the truth. “Politics are a zero-sum game. Every vote that isn’t yours is for your opponent.”

“While I don't disagree, I believe I can win this fight without bloodletting.”

“I do hope you’re right, but Cercei is vicious and if you don’t mind me saying so- you’ve experienced more than enough loss for one lifetime.”

“As have you.”

“What are a few brothers, a mother, and a father.”

“Great losses, if my own experiences are to be believed.” Daenerys did her best to keep the wistfulness out of her voice as she looked into the woods that surrounded them. Making eye contact with Yara was becoming increasingly difficult, “Or at least they would be if I could remember them.”

“I- I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me, Yara. We all cope with tragedy our own way. If you want to minimize it- you certainly can- but I do understand at least some of your grief. I only remember my brother. He was cruel, a drunk, a gambler- killed in a barfight when he couldn’t make good on a bet. But he was my brother.”

“How old were you?”

“Eighteen.”

“That’s too young. He was the last of your family?”

“Except for my husband. But he died later that year.”

“I’m so sorry…" Yara hesitated slightly, fighting the urge to address Daenerys by her first name.

“Daenerys is fine, Yara.” The blonde sighed, resigning herself to her fate. There was no point in continuing the charade of disinterest. She had all but admitted it, even if she had drawn a line in the sand next to the word 'cock.'

“I’m so sorry, Daenerys.” Yara repeated and looked to her as she spoke, not with pity but with understanding. Daenerys hated the circumstances but adored the way her name sounded coming from Yara’s mouth.

“How old were you?”

“My brothers died when I was fifteen. That’s when my mother’s dementia became aggressive. My father couldn’t handle it and after a few months of rapid deterioration- my aunt took my mother in. She’s still there. Hasn’t recognized me in years though.” Yara attempted to keep her face stony but her eyes betrayed a hint of sorrow. Their ride continued in silence for a minute until they reached a clearing by a creek. The smell of spring hung heavy in the air: wildflowers, the tang of wet grass, and the musty smell of decaying undergrowth. “Would you mind if we stopped for a moment to let the horses drink?”

Daenerys nodded wordlessly before coming to a halt and dismounting gracefully, Yara followed suit and they led their mounts to the water. Motte pawed at it dramatically before lowering his muzzle to drink. The women stood next to each other for a moment without saying anything. Holding the reins to the grey mare in her left hand, with her right Daenerys lightly touched Yara’s arm, “Strong people don’t let tragedy beat them.” She murmured, drawing Yara closer.

“No.” The brunette looked down at Daenerys’ hand before angling her body to face the shorter woman. “They rise again harder and stronger.”

“You’ve done a good job of that.” As the blonde spoke her hand remained resting on Yara’s forearm. “Your father left your company in ruins, you saved it by the skin of your teeth, you were shrewd, uncompromising, and forceful, even in the face of certain failure. Thousands of people owe their jobs to you.”

“That means a lot coming from you. You’ve had no shortage of triumph over tragedy in your life either.”

“I suppose not. It’s refreshing.”

“What is?”

“To speak with someone who understands.”

“It is.” They stepped towards each other at the same time. Both refusing to break eye contact. Daenerys’ stomach was fluttering- this hadn’t happened to her since she was a teenager, haplessly in love for the first time. As Yara’s hands took Daenerys’ waist- they snapped. Lips crashed together frantically. Both knowing that there was no turning back from here. The air was heavy around them, as if they were being pushed together by some unknown force. Yara was drawn to Daenerys like the tides succumb to the whims of the Moon. 

The taller woman pulled on Daenerys’ lower lip, sucking lightly before gently nipping at it- teasing her with the promise of more as they embraced. For the first time, Daenerys felt completely understood. Yara’s fingers tangled themselves into the pale blonde’s hair as she pulled her closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t worry, they’re about to get a whole lot more confused from here.


	4. Drip Drop, Give Me What You Got

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in the last week I have completely re-hauled the plot of this story. Originally it was unnecessarily long and went extensively into a lot of world building. I've cut the crap out to focus more on the story I'm interested in telling. Which, let's be real, is a thinly veiled excuse to have Yara and Daenerys fuck. I've also cleaned up the last couple of chapters/tags to fit the new projected length/plot.

It had been six weeks since the incidental kiss at the barn. Six weeks of avoiding each other, of professional emails, of communicating through their assistants. Six weeks of not acknowledging the fire they had set, of apologizing for crossing the line, of lonely pining. Six weeks full of careful preparation, of intel-gathering, of liquidating assets, and of mentally steeling themselves against the war they were starting. In spite of it all- Yara had been completely unable to get Daenerys Targaryen out of her mind. 

It had driven Yara to the ends of frustration. The sun had set hours ago, taking with it only some of the thick Summer heat that blanketed the city. Yara Greyjoy was sitting in her regal office chair, shirt mostly unbuttoned, pants around one ankle, and a mostly naked Ellaria Sand on her knees in front of her.

“Did I tell you to stop?” Yara’s voice demanded, barely restrained lust threatened to cut through her air of command. Ellaria shook her head no, a teasing smile on her lips. “Then finish.” The Greyjoy tangled her right hand into the Dornish woman’s black hair and pushed her face where she wanted it. It didn’t take much encouragement for Ellaria to dive back in. Yara set a brutal pace with her hips against Ellaria’s eager tongue, grinding herself against it without regard to the comfort of her companion. Based on the moans and slurping coming from between her legs, she didn’t seem to mind, so Yara continued her greedy thrusts. It was moments like these where she almost wished she had a fat cock to jam down Ellaria’s throat. 

Yara closed her eyes in pleasure as the Dornish woman took her clit between her lips and sucked, flicking her tongue over it rhythmically as she did so. Ellaria knew that was the fastest way to get her off. Yara slumped back in her chair, her hands falling away from the Dornish woman’s head as she gave into her ministrations. Every time she blinked, she couldn’t help but replace the black hair with platinum blonde. The throaty, wonton moans with ones that were suspiciously similar to Daenerys’ voice. 

She had often fantasized about bending the Targaryen over her desk. She would push one of the pencil skirts the blonde favored up over her hips and pull a lacy thong to the side before diving in. She could almost hear Daenerys’ moans. Could almost feel her tight walls around her fingers. Could almost taste her, slick and heady. It was that mental image that pushed her over the edge. Yara’s hands wove themselves back into Ellaria’s hair as she came on her eager tongue. Forcing her hard against her cunt as she gushed quietly, eyes screwed shut, fantasizing about fucking Daenerys Targaryen from behind. “Get up.” Yara had barely even finished cumming before she ordered Ellaria to her feet. The Dornish woman was as eager to follow her commands as she was to lick at the Greyjoy’s pussy. Yara stood, still a little shaky from the intensity of her orgasm, and firmly manipulated Ellaria into the position she had just been fantasizing about.

Without a word, Yara pushed Ellaria’s head down onto the desk and pulled her dress up around her hips. Strong hands and fingers lightly brushed the insides of her tan thighs, a stark contrast to the rough treatment she was about to receive. Yara rearranged herself to give her a better angle and pushed two of her fingers into Ellaria’s mouth. “Get them wet.” 

The Dornish woman did as she was told and sucked vigorously, taking care to run her tongue along the fingers as they were hooked in her mouth. Yara removed them without ceremony and used her left hand to push Ellaria’s head back down onto the desk. “Now be a good girl and I’ll let you cum.” The Greyjoy pulled her panties down just past her firm ass, just far enough to gain access to Ellaria’s swollen lips, her cunt dripping with arousal. There was no restraint left as she slid inside, Ellaria couldn’t help herself as she moaned, her walls gripped Yara’s fingers desperately, wordlessly begging her to move.

Yara began pumping into her at a punishing pace, taking great pains to only hit _that_ spot with every few thrusts. It wouldn’t do any good if Ellaria came too quickly. Yara pulled her left hand back and lightly slapped it across Ellaria’s ass as she fucked her. “Do you want more?”

“Please, Yara!” Ellaria whimpered between thrusts, she was crumbling into nothing as Yara worked her over. Moments later a much louder slap permeated the room, Yara’s strong hand left a bright red mark on Ellaria’s ass, eliciting an equally loud moan. It would most certainly bruise. Her attention shifted from making sure Ellaria didn’t come to quickly to taking her to the brink. Yara focused on her thrusting, putting all of her power into delivering the most pleasure she could to her partner. She found the engorged ridges on her front wall and began hitting them with every thrust. One more hard slap to the ass caused Ellaria to cry out again. “Fuck!”

“Do you want me to make you cum?” Yara practically growled as she draped her body over Ellaria’s, pressing her chest into the woman’s toned back. Her pace was unrelenting.

“Please.” It was almost a whisper.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________

Yara Greyjoy Yara@Pyke.com  
Subject: RE: Acquisition

I wanted to thank you for your help in getting this set up. The funds are available, and the banking team is beginning to buy up all of the available stock on the market, that plus the 6% of shares we are purchasing from the Martell family will have us at 9% by market close. Euron won’t know what hit him. 

Please have your office send this month’s statement to my accountant.

Sidebar- I am hosting a cocktail party tonight to celebrate this victory. I would enjoy seeing you. Please feel free to bring your team.

Cordially,  
Yara Greyjoy

Daenerys Targaryen DTargaryen@LBFirm.com  
Subject: RE: Acquisition

I was more than happy to help. I am ecstatic to hear the buy-up is going as planned. The billing statement has been forwarded to your accountant.  
In regard to the party, I will be in attendance. Several of my junior attorneys have expressed interest as well. What time?

Regards,  
Daenerys Targaryen

Yara Greyjoy Yara@Pyke.com  
Subject: RE: Acquisition

The party starts at 8. 300 Slate Ave. Just tell the concierge who you are, he’ll let you up. I’m very much looking forward to it.

________________________________________________________________________________________

Tyrion was pacing the floor of his grand office. His body was tense, he seemed dangerously close to snapping. “What I don’t understand,” he began, voice dripping in irritation, “Is why you wouldn’t inform me that you took on a new client. Especially- one as significant as Yara Greyjoy! You cannot just do whatever pleases you!” The words were flying in barely restrained anger. Daenerys sat, unflinching as he finished his tirade. “You are not a senior partner! There is a chain of command! And the fact that you thought you could keep this as your little secret was absurd!” The air of professionalism was dropped entirely as he shouted, “Well!? What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Sir. She asked for the utmost discretion, her business was contingent on the fact that knowledge of this was limited to me and my team.” The Targaryen remained calm and measured as she stated the facts of the situation to Tyrion. He ceased his pacing and returned to his desk chair. “She was insistent that I don’t reveal any unnecessary information until after her plan had been implemented.”

“And what, might I ask, is this plan?” He folded his hands together and attempted to burn a hole through Daenerys’ head with his definitely-still-irritated-glare.

“Essentially it works in two parts, Yara-” ‘ _Shit_ ’ She caught herself as Tyrion raised a thick eyebrow, “Ms. Greyjoy’s intention is to buy up all available market shares of Pyke under her name. Simultaneously, under a web of shell corporations, she is buying up all available market shares of Euron’s company.”

“A Pac Man?” He was incredulous. This was certainly an interesting, if not stupid, gambit to prevent a hostile takeover.

“Yes, sir.”

“And what is your role in all of this?”

“My team has been opening a chain of shell corporations for Ms. Greyjoy and ensuring there is adequate discretion regarding their ownership. We have also begun consulting with her legal team to further combat Euron’s attempted buy up of Pyke stock.”

“Next time you take on a client of this magnitude- please take care to inform me. I don’t appreciate being kept in the dark.” Tyrion stood up to dismiss her. Clearly still miffed but at an impasse as to what to do about his insolent junior partner. As she stood to leave, he spoke once more. “You were selling yourself short at $700 an hour. With a family like the Greyjoys you could have commanded at least double that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“And Ms. Targaryen.”

“Yes, sir?”

“This is your only warning. Pull a stunt like this again and you will be in need of a new employer.”

“Yes, sir.” She turned on her heel and disappeared through the doorway as quickly as she could manage while still maintaining an air of dignity. She certainly wasn’t going to show Tyrion Lannister that she was nervous. Daenerys made it all the way to her office without cracking before she shut the door and sunk down into her desk chair.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

Daenerys arrived an hour after the party had begun, she was still reeling from her confrontation with Tyrion. While not unexpected, it was certainly jarring to be dressed down so severely at work. There were already a good number of bankers, lawyers, and Yara’s inner circle milling about the palatial penthouse- rancorously regaling each other with tales of triumph while they drank to excess. 

She scanned the room for someone she knew, Missandei and Grey had suggested they would be here and Daario was never one to miss free cocktails. Sticky heat hung in the air over the party, a combination of the oppressive heatwave and the sheer number of jovial party goers that had packed into the loft. As her eyes raked over the room, she found someone. Just not the person she was looking for.

Yara wore a white button up with vertical blue stripes, the sleeves rolled past her elbows. She had left the top few buttons undone, exposing many of her tattoos, the kraken on her right arm, the sleeve on her left. If the blonde woman wasn’t already nervous, she certainly was now. She struggled to even place why. Something about the casual ease with which Yara laughed was driving her to distraction. They locked eyes, pulling the Greyjoy’s attention from the conversation she had been engrossed in. Daenerys knew she was particularly striking this evening. Towering patent leather Louboutins, an arguably too tight pencil skirt, and her platinum hair worn in carefully coiffed waves. Yara couldn’t look away, even if she had wanted to. 

Some part of Daenerys’ subconscious had forced her to dress a little more provocatively than she normally would, to spend a little extra time in the mirror before leaving her apartment. She wasn’t usually one to dress for others, but she wanted Yara to want her. Even if she was struggling to admit it to herself. The Targaryen couldn’t help herself as she started to make her way across the crowded room to the woman she hadn’t seen in over a month. Yara’s stormy eyes lit up with glee once she noticed the platinum blonde’s trajectory. 

“I’m sorry, gentlemen, you’ll have to excuse me. I have to go greet Ms. Targaryen.” She wasn’t listening to the convivial responses offered to her by the group as she turned from them to stand face to face with Daenerys, the woman who had commanded her thoughts for the better part of two months. “It is lovely to see you. Can I get you a drink?” Yara beamed.

“That would be great.” She warmly returned the smile, “This is quite the party.” Daenerys’ head swiveled around to take in the loft- the art on the walls, the tasteful leather and marble and driftwood and steel. ‘ _It’s all very her…_ ’ She decided as the brunette lead them to the wet bar, manned by a professional looking bartender.

“I’ll take a Macallan 18, please. Neat.” It was a practiced order, it was hard to imagine she drank much else. The bartender looked to Daenerys expectantly.

“A vodka martini. Thank you.” The bartender nodded curtly and turned from them to prepare their drinks. It wasn’t her usual, but it seemed fitting for the evening. Yara turned to her to speak before she was interrupted by the booming voice of one of her board members. He tapped the side of his glass with a knife, the resounding pings silenced the room.

“I would like to offer a toast to our fearless leader! Yara Greyjoy! Your careful guidance brought this company back from the brink! And you have once again saved us from an unkind fate. Here is to many more years of your leadership!” A rancorous chorus of “Here here’s” erupted from the crowd causing Yara to smile sheepishly. She held a hand up to silence the revelers once more, as soon as a hush fell over the crowd the bartender set her drink on the counter which she picked up and raised.

“I would like to make a toast to all of you. We wouldn’t be here without all of your hard work. I wouldn’t be here without all of your hard work. Thank you for sticking with me through all of this. With patience and persistence- this team of people can do anything. Thank you for coming! Enjoy the party!” She slugged back a gulp of her drink. The cheering grew louder. Her downstairs neighbors would certainly be upset about this. ‘ _I need to remind myself to invite them next time._ ’ Yara turned from the crowd back to Daenerys.

She was much quieter as she spoke, returning to the private moment, “While we’re toasting,” Yara hesitated briefly, “Thank you- for giving me the courage to believe in what I’m doing again.” 

“You’ve always believed in it- I just don’t think you believed in yourself.”

“You’re being corny.” 

“Is it corny if it’s true? Did you honestly believe you could overcome Euron on your own? Or did you ask for help?” Daenerys looked like she wanted to continue the thought but was pulled from her string of rhetorical questions by a vaguely offended and slightly incensed Greyjoy.

“My back was against a wall. I- I had no other ideas!” Yara sputtered defensively- she had agonized over the decision for months. One of her greatest fears was being perceived as weak but the people she admired.

“Slow down. I didn’t say asking for help was a weakness. I was trying to say- before I was so rudely interrupted-” The blonde placed a tentative hand on Yara’s exposed forearm, she was caught by surprise by the firmness of the muscle there and made a note to study the black and gold tentacles that encircled it later. “That asking for help was courageous. You knew your fight was just but ill-fated. No one could fault you for tipping the scales in your favor.” 

There was a tinge of sheepishness in Yara’s eyes as she realized the error of her assumption, “Aye. I suppose not.” She hesitated slightly before she could get the apology out, giving Daenerys the opportunity to control the direction of the conversation once again. ‘ _What is it about this woman that makes me surrender so easily?_ ’

“But you believe again. Is that not why we’re celebrating?” 

“I think Theon is celebrating the fact that I no longer shout at him when he asks me how my day was.” Yara chuckled as she took a nervous sip from her glass. Her dry attempt at steering the conversation away from such a sensitive topic. “I’m going to step away to smoke. Can I interest you in a cigarette?”

“You smoke often?”

“Only when I drink.”

The party goers mingled in the thick summer air that had settled across the room. They seemed immune to noticing the two women leaving as they reveled in their success, boisterous storytelling and continuations of toasts covered the loft in a comfortable blanket of noise. Yara ascended the staircase with her drink in one hand and a pack of Marlboro Reds in the other, the tell-tale clack of heels behind her betrayed just how eager her companion was to follow. The hallway at the top of the stairs wasn’t particularly long. There were two doors on the left side and one on the right, leading to one larger door at the end of the hall. Modern art hung on the walls upstairs as well, although the color was more subdued than the paintings downstairs.

“More Basquiat?”

“Mmhmm. I’ve always enjoyed his work. It always reminded me of Theon.” Yara opened the door to her bedroom, the colossal bed to the left, a marble fireplace on the opposite wall, next to the entrance to the bathroom. But straight ahead were the sliding glass doors and floor to ceiling windows that lead to the balcony. She crossed the room in what seemed like one stride, leaving the doors open for her companion to follow. The view from the balcony was breathtaking. The skyline was so close, so beautiful. Headlights traced the streets through the night, carving illuminated canals through the inky black. Daenerys had become lost in all of it as she leaned against the railing. She didn’t register that Yara was offering her a cigarette until the brunette touched her hand. “You there?” Yara asked with a sly smile. The buzz of the alcohol, the hot summer night, the flicker of the city lights. It was intoxicating.

“Yeah.” She paused, “Sorry. It’s stunning.” The blonde gently took the cigarette from Yara who offered her a black lighter. “Thank you.” She murmured quietly into the night as she drew the smoke into her lungs. Yara repeated the action with her own cigarette, she took a long drag before blowing the smoke back into the thick air.

“It is.” Yara’s eyes hadn’t left Daenerys, who almost immediately rolled hers in response.

“Now you’re the one being corny. If you’re going to flirt, at least make an attempt at originality.” The blonde wasn’t irritated, far from it. Her eyes flickered to Yara’s lips for a moment before looking away. Daenerys saw something in her face that she couldn’t describe without using words that were far too heavy for this hour.

“It’s not my fault that you’re magnetic. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you even if I wanted to.” Yara took a deep drag of the cigarette, turning from Daenerys to stare back out into the city lights.

“Yara. We can’t. Not again.” Disappointment briefly crossed Yara’s face, before it was replaced once more by that fake, lopsided smile that disappeared every time she took a sip from her drink or a drag from her cigarette. Daenerys continued, “You have the privilege of fucking off from your responsibilities if you want to- but I cannot afford an ethics breach. I don’t have a failsafe. There is nothing more important to me than my dreams.” Her voice was brittle and sharp, there was something just under the surface that she most definitely didn’t want the Greyjoy to notice. Thinly veiled curiosity, yearning even.

“I wish it wasn’t that way.” Yara sighed heavily. She had been hopeful, that perhaps Daenerys would be willing to drop everything for a shot at this. It was an insane hope. They barely knew each other. They had kissed once and then spent the next month and a half avoiding one other. “But you’re right. It’s unfair of me to ask you to betray yourself.” 

“You can call me Dany.” She spoke while keeping her gaze fixed on the skyline in front of her. She knew that if she turned to Yara, she would be unable to help herself.

“Dany, then.” They sat together in contemplative silence for several minutes as they finished their cigarettes. Yara smoked much faster than Daenerys. ‘ _Dany._ ’ She couldn’t help but roll the name around in her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your kudos, bookmarks, and comments keep me going! Thank you for bearing with me through all of this- if you see any glaring errors please let me know as this is un-betaed.


	5. I Wanna Hold You Like You're Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, work craziness/successive promotions, the holidays, restaurant week, and a near break up with my girlfriend kept me away from this for a little while. I've cut a lot of what I wanted to include here just to force myself to write and get an update out. Honestly, while I like the premise of this story a lot- there is a second story I've been working on for this pair that I am a lot more enthused about and is seeing more of my creative energy. Heatwaves is not abandoned- but updates will be slow while I write the fine dining AU I posted about on tumblr. Anyway. Let's get to it.

Euron Greyjoy could seldom be described as a happy man, but today he was furious. “Nine percent!” He shouted, his face red with fury, his lips twisted into a sneer. “After the other seemingly untraceable nine percent!? You have one job! One fucking job!” His powerful arm swept an array of items from his desk onto the floor with a flourish. It drew a wince from the younger man standing in front of him. “All I want to know is who the fuck owns 18% of my goddamn company! It’s like pulling fucking teeth with you. Useless fucking twat.” He slumped dramatically into his high-backed office chair. “Well?” Wordlessly, the assistant set down an open newspaper and a stack of documents on the desk before turning on his heel and leaving. Euron shook his head at the man before picking it up. The article on page six was certainly not his usual cup of tea- but he was fixated. He found himself reading and rereading. A quick google search of the name Daenerys Targaryen brought up a great deal of information regarding Lannister and Bird. The power they held would certainly give Yara the ability to cover her tracks.

***

THE WESTEROSI TIMES  
Page Six Column  
By Margarey Tyrell

THIS week, notorious bachelorette, Yara Greyjoy was once again seen cavorting with the daughter of disgraced senator, Aerys Targaryen. Daenerys Targaryen is a junior partner at Lannister and Bird and was previously married to the now deceased Olympian, Drogo Khal. They have been on intimate horseback rides, extravagant dinners around town, and Ms. Targaryen has been spotted entering and leaving Ms. Greyjoy’s apartment several times. 

What does this mean for the future of the Greyjoy heiress? It was believed that she had been casually dating but has the stunning Daenerys finally turned her head? Furthermore, what do the other women she has been seeing think about this development? Among them is purported to be the model turned brand ambassador, Ellaria Sand although she could not be reached for comment.

We reached out to several people in their inner circles and were told that they are “close friends” but according to another individual who rides at the same stables as Ms. Greyjoy, the couple were spotted in a passionate embrace several months ago. It has been speculated that they are keeping their relationship under wraps as to not distract from the young CEO’s ongoing legal battle with her uncle, Euron Greyjoy, for control of Pyke and all of its subsidiaries.

***

It gave Euron an idea. He would meet Daenerys. He would meet her and find out what she knew. "Get back in here!" Euron shouted at his door, a satisfied smile curled around his lips as the flustered assistant crashed back into the room in a flurry. "I want a meeting with Daenerys Targaryen. As soon as possible."

"Yes, sir. Anything else, sir?"

"That'll be all."

____________________

Daenerys Targaryen was irritated. Today was certainly not her day. Between the Westrosi Times article and the horrible phone call from Euron's office attempting to schedule a meeting, she was rattled. Thankfully Missandei handled Euron- told him they’d call back to schedule something. But her stomach had been a pit ever since. The newspaper was thankfully not known for its accuracy or adherence to the truth, so Daenerys imagined it would blow over soon. But there was no way Tyrion wouldn’t find out and reprimand her. Maybe even fire her. She had to call Yara. 

Dany picked up her phone and swiped through her contacts to find Yara’s number. It was the middle of the day, Yara wasn’t in her office but she always answered the phone when Daenerys called. The fact that it went to voicemail was suspicious. ‘ _Maybe Euron got in contact with her too. Or she saw the article. I’ll try one more time. It’s urgent._ ’ Dany pressed the call button another time before returning the phone to her face. One ring. Two. Three. 

On the fourth ring, Yara answered. “What?” She was uncharacteristically short. The voice of a woman crooned in the background, very quickly explaining Yara’s distraction. The soft, “I’ll be back to bed in a minute. Be patient.” Dany was dumbfounded. She certainly hadn’t expected Yara to be in bed with someone.

“Is this a bad time?” She blurted out. This vulnerability was odd.

“Yes.” Yara was frank, her intentions were not cruel but the last thing she wanted to do was think about Daenerys Targaryen while she was fucking another girl. Again.

“I’ll call back later. Sorry for interrupting.”

“Are you sure?” A touch of concern crept into Yara’s voice.

“Yeah. Enjoy your afternoon.” Dany made a half-hearted attempt at teasing. Her discomfort was palpable. Had Yara been paying more attention to the conversation, she would have noticed.

“Alright. Talk to you later.” Yara’s eagerness to get off of the phone was a certain kind of devastating. The sound of emptiness filled Daenerys with resolve. She would take the meeting. She would take the meeting and find out what Euron knew.

___________________

Dany collapsed onto her couch, heels flung across the room, and a glass of wine in hand. The meeting was exhausting. She was completely drained. Typically, on a night like this one, she would call Missandei over and they would drink themselves into oblivion while watching reruns of comforting tv shows- but Missandei was with Grey tonight. Daenerys’ friend spent more and more evenings in his company. It didn’t bother her, she was happy that her typically stoic and soft-spoken friends had found love in one another’s arms. It left her with a longing for similar companionship. She missed Drogo, but that wasn’t the kind of relationship she wanted as an adult. There was a power imbalance, she was a child and he was nearly an adult, she was reliant on him, his money, his protection, his power. He saved her from Viserys, an act she would always be thankful for. She didn't need saving anymore, though.

Now? Now she wanted a partner. An equal. Someone to share in her life, to offer her support, to love. Daenerys was powerful in her own right. There was nothing a partner could do for her that she couldn’t do for herself. Perhaps that is why the idea of Yara was so intriguing to her. A woman who understood her, who didn’t seek to tame her, whom she respected. A woman who had everything on her own. They didn’t need anything from one another. ‘ _A relationship between two titans._ ’ 

Daenerys rolled the idea around in her head as she pictured her future, as she often did, running for senate. A strategy meeting with her closest advisors, and Yara. Her smirking, swaggering, deliciously enticing wife sat across the mahogany table from Tyrion as he rambled. ‘ _Wife?_ ’ The idea surprised her, but she was on her second glass of wine and was more than willing to indulge the fantasy.

Daenerys pictured Yara with her legs crossed, left ankle over her right knee, simmering with confidence. The outfit was unimportant, but it was certainly some variation of her ensemble from the cocktail party. Something about that woman in a button-down shirt had crawled under her skin and wouldn’t leave her alone. She took a deep drink from her wine and let the fantasy of an evening with the Greyjoy consume her, take her further away from her typical policy-making daydreams. _Yara._ She certainly wasn’t conventionally beautiful but something about her was inexplicably attractive. Dany imagined both of them a little drunk on that scotch Yara loved, both a little handsy in the elevator on the way up to their apartment. ‘ _Our apartment?_ ’ It seemed as if her imagination would be full of surprises this evening. One more sip of wine and Dany sunk even farther into her thoughts. She could hear Yara’s voice, could feel her hot breath against her neck.

“Dany, my love. Why must you tease me so endlessly when you know damn well I can’t help myself.” Yara had her pinned against the wall of the elevator as she pressed desperate kisses into her pale neck. The rhetorical question did not demand an answer. They both knew why. Daenerys had all but intended for Yara to bend her over the table in the conference room and fuck her for all to see. Hot, fast, punishing strokes driven completely by a need to claim her, to declare to the world that they could never make Dany cum the way Yara could. Keening, wailing, begging for release. But here they were, defiling the elevator instead. Yara’s kisses made their way from the base of Daenerys’ neck to her jawline, sloppy open-mouthed things, dripping with promises of what she would busy her mouth with later. She traced lazy circles, sucked the sensitive flesh into her mouth and gently nipped. Not hard enough to leave a mark, Yara would be far too courteous for that, even if Dany wanted it.

The brunette’s strong hands drew Dany closer as their lips found each other. Overflowing with passion and need. Nothing at all like their impulsive kiss at the barn so many months ago. It was practiced, two people who had been kissing for years, who knew exactly what to do. Yara’s hands wound themselves around Dany’s waist, pulling the blonde closer, chests heaving, they paused the kiss to breathe. Foreheads pressed together as their eyes met, that mischievous sparkle betrayed Yara’s intentions to Daenerys. Her perfect hands wound under Dany’s firm ass and as the elevator doors opened to their penthouse, Yara picked the smaller woman up with a laugh and began the trek to their bedroom, ‘ _our bedroom_ ,’ instinctively Dany’s legs wound around Yara’s waist. 

The fantasy grew even more real and Daenerys could hardly help herself but to move her hand under the waistband of her pants and pressed her fingers against her damp, lacy underwear with a shiver. She could all but feel Yara’s hands on her body. It was much more vivid than her usual fantasies. 

The fantasy resumed and with it, their heavy kissing, Dany cradled Yara’s face in her hand, the sharp, firm lines of her jaw bore heavily into the soft palm of the blonde. A drunken misstep, they stumbled together into the wall, Daenerys’ legs still wound tight around Yara’s waist as her back slammed against the surface, narrowly avoiding one of those garish paintings Yara insisted on keeping. Dany’s skirt had migrated up her waist, powerful fingers dug further into her ass, reaching towards her center. “I want to fuck you so badly.” Yara growled into Daenerys’ ear, grazing the lobe with her teeth. The action elicited a quiet moan from the blonde woman, a soft shudder racked her body.

Dany was coy and playful in her response, barely restrained need roiled under the surface of her teasing, “Then what’s stopping you?” Her small hands wound themselves around Yara’s neck, raking along her strong shoulders with her nails. Yara’s lips crashed into hers once more, demanding that Daenerys cede to her whims. Their lips and tongues met in battle, the fight for dominance was a familiar enough dance. Wordlessly, the powerful brunette pulled them from the wall and walked the last few steps to their bedroom. The bed was high off the ground and heavenly, a plush white comforter, white silk sheets, lush pillows. Their lips finally parted as Yara set Dany on the bed. She was breathing heavily, with her chest flushed, and her skirt hiked around her waist. Yara looked like a predator. Her muscles coiled as she drank in the beauty before her. She licked her lips in anticipation before rolling the bottom one between her teeth. The Yara of Daenerys’ imagination was a ferocious lover, forceful and overwhelming. Like the ocean, and tonight, Dany wanted to drown in it.

Daenerys’ imagination was getting ahead of itself, she jumped to picturing Yara wearing a strap on and nothing else. Dany traced her tattoos with violet eyes, the ones she imagined lived on Yara’s thighs, the kraken, the ships, the daggers and hearts and the promises sewn into her skin.

Dany was unsure when she became so attracted to Yara, but the mental image had her soaked. The clichés she was playing to made her want to roll her eyes, but wine does incredible things to the mind.

She sized up the substantial dildo attached to her lover before making eye contact and pulling her lacy, red panties off. Just like that, Yara was all over her, she had Dany’s arms pinned above her head as she traced lines down her taut stomach with her lips, teeth, and tongue. Two skillful fingers grazed the outside of Daenerys’ pussy lips, spreading her arousal around to make the entrance easier. Yara lined the thick cock up, further smearing the wetness, with a heady kiss, she slowly pushed inside. Taking time to ensure that Daenerys was completely ready to take her. Dany needed this, she arched her back and thrust her hips forward to engulf the rest of the toy. Yara’s body pressed firmly against hers, her cunt full, she knew that she would be taken care of. 

It was that moment that guilt consumed Daenerys’ conscious mind. ‘ _I should tell her about the meeting. She would have told me._ ’ She signed and pulled her hand from her pants. The Yara of her imagination vanished but the dull throb between her legs remained. With a sigh, rooted in vague disappointment, she grabbed her phone and tapped out a quick text to Yara.

12:29am  
Dany: Hey, sorry we didn’t get a chance to talk earlier. I wanted to tell you that I met with Euron today.

12:29am  
Yara Greyjoy: What? Is everything okay?

The almost instantaneous reply did little to soothe Daenerys’ savage nerves. She briefly closed her eyes before coming up with a reply that didn’t show too many of her cards. ‘ _Keep it ambivalent._

12:30am  
Dany: Yeah, everything is fine. He was suspicious because of that article that got ran in the Times the other day.

12:31am  
Yara Greyjoy: Oh fuck. I heard but I didn’t read it.

12:31am  
Dany: I handled it. He doesn’t know anything, but he is just as gross as you say.

12:31am  
Yara Greyjoy: I’m sorry you had to deal with him. Why didn’t you tell me about the meeting before?

12:37am  
Dany: I was going to. I got weirded out when you were in bed with that girl.

12:37am  
Yara Greyjoy: I’m sorry about that, it was bad timing.

12:39  
Dany: It’s okay. You’re allowed to do what you want in your free time.

12:41am  
Yara Greyjoy: There are other things I would have rather been doing. But circumstances being what they are…..

12:45am  
Dany: Circumstances being what they are.

12:45am  
Yara Greyjoy: I wish it was different.

12:45am  
Dany: I know.

12:46am  
Yara Greyjoy: If it ever changes- let me know.

12:55am  
Dany: Yara, I’m not going to get involved with a client.

12:55am  
Yara Greyjoy: What if I wasn’t a client anymore?

12:56am  
Dany: How do you think it would look if one of my most important clients left and then I immediately started dating her? Tyrion would fire me.

12:57am  
Yara Greyjoy: Who said anything about a date?

1:05am  
Dany: Please, Yara. Don’t do this.

1:06am  
Yara Greyjoy: I won’t bring it up again. I just…

1:06am  
Dany: Thank you. I’m going to go to bed. Goodnight, Yara.

1:10am  
Yara Greyjoy: Goodnight, Dany.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do plan on eventually filling in the gaps of what exactly transpired at the Euron and Daenerys meeting- I have it scripted out- I just don't find a lot of joy in writing for Euron and with my limited creative output- I have just decided to scrap his shit except for the absolutely necessary bits. However, this is very much a transition chapter- there's not a lot of substance here except set up- I hope I make up for it with Dany's imagination. There's a solid chance I revise this heavily before the next chapter comes out.
> 
> Thanks for reading, guys. Your kudos and reviews help motivate me.


End file.
